


Under Your Control

by ausfil



Category: Westlife
Genre: Angst, BDSM, Communication, Control, Control Issues, Corporal Punishment, Discipline, Dom/sub, Domestic Discipline, Dominance, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Figging, Growth, Hurt/Comfort, Internal Conflict, Kneeling, Love, M/M, Pain, Personal Growth, Punishment, Spanking, Submission
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 13:33:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17284991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ausfil/pseuds/ausfil
Summary: Shane has trouble giving up control, even if it’s what he had always wanted to do.





	Under Your Control

**Author's Note:**

> After four months, I FINALLY finished something! It’s been emotional writing this, so I hope you enjoy it :)

Shane remembered fantasising about this very moment ever since he was a teenager. Before he was even close to his first kinky encounter. This had always been the largest fantasy fuelling his bloodstreams; the heart of his idea of sexuality, of identity and self-expression.

Submission. Masochism.

It meant that he could give up control. He could be in the hands of another person that he trusted with all his heart. It was all he ever wanted for himself. He wanted someone to tell him what to do, and for himself to do it without any shame, and to be praised for it, be kissed and hugged and be told that he was so good, so loved.

And following submission; punishments.

The idea of a punishment had made his guts stir. The vision of himself under someone else’s complete control, helpless, being put in his place that felt like home, in his place where every inch of his soul belonged. The excitement he had imagined when a fire was lit from the slap on his ass to the very core of his heart. Shane had fantasised about this for so long.

He had never known that he would grow to fear it. To dread it.

Submission was still very much at the centre of his sexuality. When he was slapped across the face during a session, he’d feel the tips of fingers tingle. Ecstatic palpitations in his chest when a leather paddle met his trembling skin. He craved it every day.

But punishments were from a completely different stratosphere.

It was nothing like the pain the masochist side of him loved. _Nothing_ like that.

Because when Kian punished him, he made it hurt. Just until the point where Shane could almost break, Kian would not show him a glimpse of mercy. He would stop on the absolute end of the line. Not a single step earlier. When Kian punished him, he meant it. He really meant it.

The first time Kian had had to, Shane learnt what ‘punishments’ actually entailed. It wasn’t a fantasy. His imagination was wrong. It wasn’t a magical arousing experience. No. It was harsh. It was pain. It was a lesson taught. It was contrition and forgiveness. He had realised it wasn’t supposed to be a sexual fantasy – at least not with Kian.

“Do you understand what happens now when you disobey me just to get spanked?” Kian had asked.

“Yes, Sir.” Shane had sobbed, still bent over with blood raising to the cane marks on his bottom, shivering. “I promise I won’t do it again, Sir.”

The promise had been broken. Multiple times, it had been broken.

When the overwhelming hankering for pain took over his plexus, he would break this promise. He would act out instead of just asking for a session. He would dismiss a chore Kian had assigned him, or show up a little late, or forget to call him ‘Sir’, just to feel that fire, when he could easily ask for it. ‘May we play tonight, Sir?’ It was easy. If Kian was in the mood too, he would get what he asked for and actually enjoy it.

“Was breaking the rule worth it?’ Kian had asked one time after belting his thighs for an hour.

“No, Sir.” Shane answered without a millisecond of hesitation.

It hadn’t been worth it. Not one single bit. That idiotic strand of pride he had held onto, that inherent need to control things – it always meant nothing in the end. Kian would bring him right back down to his place. The amount of pain wasn’t worth it. Kian’s disappointment wasn’t worth it. Kian’s hurt wasn’t worth it. He was in this to please Kian, to do everything and anything that Kian needed him to do, to be disciplined and to become a better person.

Almost overnight, Shane realised he wasn’t doing that. The hurt in Kian’s voice had dawned upon him during one punishment session, a hammer to his head that was more painful than any physical infliction. So he stopped breaking the rules on purpose. He turned down that ugly instinct to manipulate, to somehow have things his way. He had stopped. He had learnt to fear it. The consequences were far too severe. The term ‘punishment’ would make his bones crumble. So he stopped. He gave into his position. Completely.

And Kian had realised this progress. He had rewarded him.

“I think you’re finally learning from your mistakes.” Kian had crooned one night, cuddling in bed and kissing his hair softly. “I’m proud of you, love.”

Shane had been doing so well.

Until he wasn’t.

Otherwise he wouldn’t be here on his knees, Kian sitting on the chair in front of him, sighing.

“You can just ask. _Ask_ me for it. _Tell_ me you want to be spanked. Is it that difficult to ask?”

Kian knew it was, but he wanted Shane to voice it. Shane may have looked like an easy-going carefree person, but he was also probably one of the most stubborn people Kian had ever met, let alone trained. It had been one of the reasons Shane had come to him in the first place. ‘I want to give up control’, he had murmured during their first session, ‘I want to feel loved for who I am.’

Shane gulped, looking down at the small gap on the floor between his knees and Kian’s feet. “Yes. It’s difficult.”

Kian sighed again and got up to crouch in front of the boy. He cupped a tense jaw. “If there’s something I want you to do, I always talk to you about it, don’t I?”

“You do, Sir.”

“And if there’s something you want me to do, have I ever punished you for talking to me about it?”

“No, Sir. You reward it, rather.” And Kian did. Always. Always thanked him for talking to him. Told him he was a good boy and was respected for being able to communicate his needs.

“Then why is it difficult?”

“Because I…” Shane let out a ragged breath. Shut his eyes like it would somehow spare his humiliation. “I feel ashamed.”

Kian had heard this before. He didn’t know it would be this hard to change that perspective. He didn’t think Shane knew either. It was a work in progress. Of course it was. Giving up control willingly was a difficult act for any kind of humanity. But that was why he was here. To help Shane give up that control. To help Shane feel proud about giving it up.

“Please look at me as you speak.” Kian lilted ever so kindly. Shane opened his eyes like a spell command, looked into ocean blue eyes that he could almost see himself in. “Can you tell me why you feel ashamed?”

Shane swallowed hard and tried to seek confidence in those blue orbs. “I feel… like less of myself when I have to ask. And that’s what I want – less of myself. But at the same time, it’s hard to let go. _So_ hard.” There were tears brimming in Shane’s eyes. Kian nodded in encouragement for him to continue, holding back the urge to pull him into a hug. “I’ve never done it for anyone except you. And you’re so good to me. When I _do_ let go, you make me feel so good about myself. I feel loved. And I know that. I always want to feel that way with you. But… it’s hard to reach that point. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry for how you feel.” Kian kissed him on the cheek. The tears standing in Shane’s eyes were going nowhere. “Do you know how beautiful you are when you let go?”

Shane shook his head, biting on the insides of his mouth to not cry.

“You’re so beautiful, darling. It’s my favourite thing about you, when you let go. Because letting go requires so much strength. Will. It’s never a weakness, or losing a part of yourself. It’s recognising a part of yourself and being strong enough to embrace it. And when you do, I fall more in love with you every time.”

Shane listened silently, feeling every gentle syllable wrap a layer of soft velvet around his heart.

“You’ll be punished for what you’ve done tonight, but do you understand what I’m saying?”

“I do. Thank you, Sir.”

Kian leaned in to kiss his cheek again. That tender touch lingered on his skin for longer this time. Shane wished it could stay forever. Was somehow sure that it would.

“Alright. Take your clothes off and bend over the desk.” He did in a heartbeat. “I’m not going to spank you tonight,” Kian uttered as he rubbed Shane’s bare cheeks. “It’s clearly not teaching you anything.”

The hand left his skin for a minute, and when he saw what Kian pulled out from the drawer, he felt his chest tighten. Kian opened the little jar and pulled out the fig of ginger root, moved towards his backside.

“Sir…” Shane murmured, lips trembling.

“You’re in the middle of being disciplined. You don’t speak unless told to.” The hardness of Kian’s voice was like a gag tightening around his mouth.

Shane pursed his lips.

“Don’t make a sound,” Kian said as he spread his cheeks apart. Shane shut his eyes and braced himself.

Yeah. It was as bad as he imagined. He was always surprised by the power figging had, no matter how many times Kian had punished him with it in the past.

The moment the ginger root entered him, it _burnt_. He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth until Kian stopped pushing it in.

“How does that feel?” Kian asked.

Horrible. Painful. And not in a good way. Stretched. Impossibly full. He shuffled a bit. Felt the spiky tingle light a ring of fire around his hole and travel more and more inside him as slow seconds passed.

“It burns, Sir.” Shane mumbled through his clumped throat.

“Good.” Kian placed his hand on the small of Shane’s curved back, a nice comforting touch. “Do you remember what you said when you first met me?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Tell me what it was.”

Shane tried to clear his head and took a deep breath for himself. Tried to focus on the calm of Kian’s voice instead of the tingling getting stronger. “I… I said I wanted to give up on control. That I want to be loved for who I am.”

“And who did you give that control to?”

“To you, Sir.”

“Are you glad you did? Answer honestly.”

“It’s the best thing I’ve ever done for myself,” Shane answered honestly. Kian sneaked a little smile.

“Do you feel loved for who you are?”

“Always, Sir.”

Kian’s hand was still on his back, occasionally gliding up to rub the back of his neck, to rake through his hair and pat his head. Every little touch was a serene distraction from the fig. “Do you love me for who I am?”

“Always, Sir.” Shane repeated. There was a lump in his throat.

“So do you understand how much it hurts me when you break my rules on purpose? And more than that, try to manipulate it?”

Shane tried not to cry as he whispered “Yes, Sir. I’m sorry.”

“Do you understand why you’re being punished?” Shane nodded. “Good boy,” Kian kissed his hair, “get up.” He did, hissing when the fig moved inside him.

Kian pointed to the other corner of the room. Punishment was for sure no longer a fantasy. No, he feared this. But he needed this more than anything. God, he didn’t even know when Kian set that up.

“Kneel over there.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Shane tried to fight the hesitation in his step. That instinct to be in control again. He was here for a reason. He was being punished for a reason. He was being brought back down to the floor for a reason. He marched up to it and got down on his knees, on the puddle of raw rice that Kian had poured out.

Every grain was a little needle piercing through every layer of his skin. And every movement he made in an attempt to get used to the pain, the fig inside _yelled_ at him to stay still, or else.

“Two hours. Do you think you can do that for me?”

 _Two hours._ Shane’s breath became shallow. _Two hours_. The most he had ever kneeled on rice was for an hour. For a second, he thought about saying no, then wanted to punish himself even more for that thought. This was about obeying. If Kian ordered him to stay there for two hours, it was his duty and privilege to stay there for two hours. He had to do this. For Kian and for himself.

“I can, Sir.” He voiced, determined.

“I believe in you.” Kian stood up after running his hands through Shane’s hair softly, and stepped out of the room.

Shane was alone. All he could do was wait for Kian to come back with a hug of forgiveness. Wait and wait and wait, and think about why he was here in the first place, rice digging into his rough skin, the ginger up his ass burning more and more with each passing moment of repentance.

Tears blurred his vision before he knew it. But he didn’t want to let himself cry. Felt like he didn’t deserve to cry. Not after hearing the hurt in Kian’s voice, seeing it in Kian’s eyes.

He focused on the pain. He gave up control.


End file.
